


Part 1: Our Heroes Discuss Stabbing, etcetera.

by orphan_account



Series: A Good Idea [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Breaking and Entering, Drinking, Epic Bromance, Gen, Strategy & Tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 20:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dorian has a good idea, he takes it to Cullen for consideration.  Chess, drinking, breaking into places, and general hilarity ensue.  And some, you know, feelings and stuff.   A series of interludes between everyone's favourite Tevene and everyone's favourite ex-Templar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part 1: Our Heroes Discuss Stabbing, etcetera.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ohsoverysensible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohsoverysensible/gifts).



> These guys are so great to write, I had total fun with this. So I hope you enjoy reading it, and would love to hear from you in the comments. Thank you to Ohsoverysensible for being even slightly encouraging of this decent into madness.

The yard is so busy, so full of noise, that Commander Cullen doesn’t hear him immediately.  Over the clash of swordplay and the yell of voices, the noise of bricks being dropped and hammers against wood its a wonder he hears him at all, but at last he hears his name in a now familiar voice.  “ Cullen! ”  Dorian roars, and as he turns he can see him rushing down the steps from the Great Hall, his arm outstretched. Cullen stops by the bottom of the staircase, looking up at him, his expression quizzical, and a little tired.  


 

Finally Dorian reaches the bottom of the staircase.  He puts his outstretched hand to his chest and exhales dramatically.  “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“Dorian, if this is about the heating again…”

“Commander, you wound me.  I solved that little problem aeons ago.  No,” his expression changes from flippant to serious in a heartbeat, “I wanted to talk with you about combat training for the mages.”

Cullen is taken aback, and immediately wary. “ Arming the mages?  Are they not armed enough already?”

Dorian rolls his eyes, and with a little shake of his head mutters, “Says the Templar.”

“...ex-Templar…”

“Yes, yes.  Back to me and my idea.  Mages, you have to admit, are mostly pretty shit fighters.  I know that between myself and the Inquisitor you have two excellent specimens in front of you on an almost daily basis that disprove that theory, but that has not been my observation of the bulk of the mages here in Skyhold.  In fact, despite making an adequate fist of a rebellion force, it was proved rather dramatically during the fight for Haven.  Even Fiona admits that the fighting only went on for so long during the rebellion through a mixture of luck and desperation. Anyway,” he shakes his head again “the ones who can fight will always end up being considered ranged soldiers.”

“Right.  But…”

“Don’t interrupt me, you tow-headed sack of muscles, not while I’m in full flight.  So, we’re obviously best at a range, but you still give ranged infantry some skills with small arms combat in case it should come to that.  I mean,  I can stab things as well as the next man, surely.”

“Technically Dorian, the next man is me, so no.”

Dorian chuckles, and quips “Point taken.  So maybe not the next man, but at least as well as Varric Tethras.”

Cullen laughs out loud at that, and smiles his agreement, acknowledging Dorian’s point.  Somehow he feels a little less tired than he did before and as he rubs his chin with one hand, he considers Dorian’s idea. It certainly has potential, and though Dorian is probably not the best person to spearhead the initiative, given the innate suspicion under which he is viewed, if he could get Fiona and Solas, maybe even Vivienne, to agree to help, there is certainly promise to it.  Even, perhaps…

“The idea has real merit, Dorian.  Have you… er… told his Worship?”

Dorian quirks an eyebrow, and shrugs.  “I haven’t seen him since I had the idea.  Plus,” he continues, more upbeat, “I wanted to secure at least one powerful ally to my cause before I proceeded.  And the poor lamb only has the entire weight of Thedas on his shoulders; he can surely leave little details like coming up with excellent ways to improve his forces over to those he doesn’t choose to come with him.”

It’s Cullen’s turn to smirk.  “Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“As much as I  love a good romp around the Western Approach, the sulfur pit winds in my hair, varghest’s nipping at my ankles…” he suddenly sags, a little defeated, then continues, “Actually, yes.  You do.”

“Oh, Dorian, you can’t be serious…”

“Is it so very difficult to know when I’m serious, Commander?  I suppose you  ex -Templars don’t know what it’s like to be under the heel of a grand passion only to have the object of your ardour out in some darkspawn-infested desert…”

“Specifically, no, I don’t.  But generally…” Cullen pauses, choosing his words carefully, lowering his voice, “I’m a Templar, or  was a Templar… but I was never a monk.”

“Oh.” Dorian looks just the tiniest bit chagrined, then his innate curiosity overcomes him, “Might I get you drunk and pry the details from you?”

Commander Cullen chuckles, the chill wind ruffling his hair. “No.  Well.  You  could get me drunk, but no details.  Not of that.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Cullen.  Just drinking, no details.” Dorian grins lopsidedly across at Cullen, “And, Commander?”

“Yes, Dorian?”

“Thank you.”


End file.
